


Ghostly Presents

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Nightmare on Dream Street [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Amusement Parks, Anxiety Attacks, Credence Barebone is a precious cinnamon roll, Cuddling & Snuggling, Freddy Kruger as a romantic icon, Grindelwald is a douchebag, Halloween, Halloween Horror Nights, Happy Credence Barebone, Haunted Houses, It makes sense in context I swear, M/M, Newt Scamander is a Dork, Newt is a not-so-secret chicken, Nightmare on Elm Street and Freddy Kruger, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Original Percival Graves, Percival Graves is a secret chicken, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Tina Goldstein, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Universal Studios, Vacation, and Graves is just super weak for him, but he won't admit it because he is Too Manly (TM), but he's trying so hard bless him, everyone wants to protect Graves and he is NOT HAVING IT, horror movies, horror movies as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Graves hates theme parks. He's not a huge fan of haunted houses, either. Hell, he doesn't even really like Halloween that much, not since he was a kid anyway, and it's really hot here, and the music is really loud, and he'd really love to just be in the hotel room right now, just the two of them, with some cheap booze and a pizza and maybe one of those scary movies Credence favors so much.But here's the thing: Credence DOES want to be here, because he loves Halloween, and theme parks, and haunted houses. And it's fine, it's really fine. Graves can handle the odd jump scare if it means making Credence happy. And he WILL make Credence happy, no matter what.Or: Cupcake Girl wanted to write Halloween fluff and instead made liberal use of the Percival Graves Cannot Pull Off A Romantic Gesture To Save His Life trope. #sorrynotsorry
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Series: Nightmare on Dream Street [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960255
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Ghostly Presents

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. SO. This was not the fic I was planning on posting next. Actually, to be honest, I was not planning to post it at all, it was just kind of a self-indulgent, "I love theme park Halloween Stuff and can't do it this year," hey let's throw Gradence into a theme park and see what happens, just-for-myself fic. Buuut fate intervened, lol, so here we are. ;)
> 
> This one goes out to Mad_Max, whose Disney Worker!Credence AU was the catalyst for me posting this bit of ridiculousness (I believe your exact words were "I very much want to read that"...ask and receive ;P ), and inb4invert for writing "Blue Ruin" and giving me a taste for first person Graves POV.
> 
> (With that said...this is my first stab at Graves POV, so. y'know. let's hope I didn't make him sound TOO much like a 20something hyper-feminine dork, lol.)
> 
> And yes, I know "Graves tries to propose/do Big Romantic Thing and it goes vastly off-track" is an Actual Cliche in this fandom. Forgive me, I can't seem to resist throwing all the tropes at poor Graves...sorry buddy, that's what you get for being played by Colin Puppy Eyes Farrell ;P
> 
> TWs (see end notes for details if any of these are red flags):  
> -Panic attack (dissociative kind, not gasp-y hyperventilate-y kind)  
> -Mentions of past child abuse  
> -Mentions of past kidnapping (Grindelwald, because he's a jerk)

As an ex-cop who currently runs a private security firm for rich assholes, I haven’t much cared for Halloween since I grew out of trick-or-treating. But my boyfriend _loves_ it. He gets into Halloween the way people get into Christmas. He wasn’t allowed to celebrate Halloween (or any holidays, really) as a kid. So now it’s like he’s making up for lost time.

I wanted to do something special this year, and taking him to Universal Studios for Halloween Horror Nights felt appropriate. Because Credence loves horror movies almost as much as he loves Halloween itself, and I thought he’d like the chance to “live” some of them.

So now here we are, walking hand-in-hand through the first “scare zone” of the evening. It’s a harvest-themed one, a haunted barnyard sort of thing, and already Credence is all lit-up, his eyes wide with excitement as the first “scareactors” come out to play. He grabs my arm and lets out a little squeak of delight as a creepy hay-creature leers at us.

“Oh, it looks so _real,”_ he sighs, looking up at the pumpkin-headed scarecrow on massive stilts. He waves, and then laughs and jumps back as the pumpkin-head guy lunges, reaching out to us with his unnaturally long stick-arms.

“If someone’s arms were really that long,” Newt remarks as the scareactor reaches for him, “they would have the worst circulation in the world. You certainly wouldn’t live very long.”

Tina shoots him an annoyed look. “Did you miss the memo that he’s supposed to be undead?”

“I’m just saying, anatomically it’s kind of impossible for him to exist.”

Queenie shudders and scoots a little close to Jacob. “He looks plenty real to me.” Jacob slips his arm around her waist as they walk and gives her a comforting squeeze. He and Tina love scary movies. Their partners, not so much. Newt tries to talk himself out of being scared with varying levels of success; Queenie just powers through it and/or clings to Jacob like he’s about to run away.

By consensus we start out with the _Stranger Things_ house, for two reasons: first, we all love the show and it’ll be a little easier on Queenie and Newt to start with something familiar, and second, we just got here, we have express passes, and we _still_ are going to wait in line for at least a half hour.

Credence is simmering with excitement, literally bouncing on the balls of his feet as we get in line. This isn’t the house he wants to see the most (that would be _Freddy Vs. Jason_ ), but he loves the show and he’s _very_ ready. “Do you think the demogorgons will actually chase us?” he asks me while we wait.

Behind us, Newt shudders. “I hope not. At least we know they can’t touch us.”

Credence actually pouts a little at that. “Don’t remind me.”

“You _want_ those things to grab you?”

Credence lets go of my hand so he can turn and face Newt. “If they were _real,_ no I would not want them to grab us because that would mean we were about to get eaten,” he says patiently. “But I want to trick myself into thinking they might grab me, even though I know they can’t, because it’s more fun that way.”

“Don’t try and explain it to him,” Tina says with a roll of her eyes. “Newt, stand behind me, I’m a girl so they’ll think I’m an easier target. Credence…” Her expression suddenly softens. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay with this? It’s going to be loud and there’s going to be strobe lights going off, and—”

“I know, Tina. I’ve been in haunted houses before,” Credence reminds her. He turns back around and rests his head against my shoulder. I slide my arm around his waist and squeeze him tight, knowing he likes the pressure. He leans into me and we stay like that, just holding each other, and it’s not much, really, but after what we’ve both been through, it is _everything._

~

When Credence and I first met it was, funnily enough, at a Halloween party. He’d just come to live with the Goldstein girls, twenty years old and absolutely wrecked to pieces by his disgusting witch of a mother, who had tried to destroy his self-esteem and make him fear the world…but he got out. He survived.

We saw each other from across the room. Our eyes met and it was like a siren song, survivor calling to survivor. He zeroed in on me with an intensity that left me weak. I wanted him desperately, terrible haircut, illogically thin and hunched frame, permanently wet eyes and all.

Tina told me in no uncertain terms to leave him alone. Queenie phrased it a little more gently (“He’s been through a lot, honey, he just needs a friend right now”), and Newt insisted I was “vulnerable and primed to fall in love,” and I’d “forget him eventually, and all for the best, really.” But even without all of that I still wouldn’t have touched him. Not then. We both needed to heal first.

I kept my distance until Queenie snuck him my email address. We exchanged one-sentence small talk for a good few months, never coming near the reason why we’d instantly locked onto each other, and it wasn’t until we had known each other for the better part of a year that he finally told me the truth about who he was and where he’d come from. I told him in return some of my story, why I had quit the force and opened a private security company with a friend. And God, how I wanted him. I wanted him like I wanted air. But it wasn’t right, not yet, and I knew that.

There are some things in life that are well worth the wait, and Credence was definitely one of them.

~  
  


Credence goes through the _Stranger Things_ maze like it’s Candyland, letting out little cries of excitement and grabbing my hand whenever a “demogorgon” jumps out at us. Every now and then he’ll breathe out a quiet _oh, wow_ or _this is so cool,_ and I swear I could live on his happiness for the rest of my life. God, I love him so much it’s scarier than the haunted house.

“I want to do that one again,” he tells me eagerly when we leave.

“No way,” Tina and Jacob protest in unison, and remind him as they herd our tiny group forward that we have another nine houses to get through and no, we do _not_ have time to stop for a fudge waffle, we have to _go_ if we’re going to see all the stuff we want to see in one night.

I know it’s irrational to hate that, but I do. When I first met Credence he was just about emaciated, at least a good thirty pounds underweight. It took everything I had to not rush across the room, grab the first thing I saw from the refreshment table, and shove it into his mouth then and there. So, yeah, seeing him denied food, even in an innocent context, puts me on edge. “Do you want one?” I ask, nodding to the Benny’s Diner kiosk. “Because I’ll get you one right now if you want. We can catch up with the others.”

“No, I’m fine. We can circle back if we have time. Besides, technically if we wanted to we could just make those at home—oh! Look!”

What he’s _oh look_ -ing about is the Vamp ’85 scare zone, featuring a giant New Year’s ball about to drop surrounded by a group of vampires dancing to an ancient AC/DC song. Credence breaks away from our group and races towards the action, and naturally I follow. He watches in breathless anticipation as the dance number finishes, the ball drops and the vampires leap into the crowd. 

When one of them comes at us I jump back, while Credence giggles like a child and flashes her a smile. “You like vampires, huh? Betcha wouldn’t like me so much if I turned you into one of us, would you?” the girl snarls, and Credence lifts his arm, as if to offer himself to her. The vampire looks surprised for a moment before she leans in and pretends to bite. Credence, of course, is thrilled that she’s playing his game and fakes a shout of pain as she “turns” him.

Tina gets the whole thing on video, while Jacob laughs his ass off. “Dear God, her _face,”_ he gasps as the vampire girl walks away. “Credence, pal, the goal is to let the scareactors _scare you,_ not make friends with them.”

Credence doesn’t seem to hear him. He shoves his wrist in my face, his eyes sparkling as he tells me, “Look, she got some of her blood on me!”

He’s acting like a child and I really shouldn’t like that, but God, he’s so beautiful when he’s this excited. Everyone else just watches us as I take the offered hand and kiss the spot that’s not smeared with fake blood. “Ew,” Tina says, crinkling her nose. “You probably should wash that off, Credence. You don’t know what’s in that stuff.”

“No way.” Credence laces his fingers through mine. “C’mon, let’s keep moving.”

We go on like that for a couple of hours, moving through the different houses with our express passes, stopping here and there to watch something exciting happen in a scare zone. Credence is completely and totally in his element. Nothing here frightens him, not in a bad way. He thrives on the adrenaline, the rush of the jump scares and the playful interaction of the scare zones.

I wish I could bottle up his happiness and save it for a bad day. I wish I had a magic wand, so I could zap this feeling into him whenever he’s sad. If I could have him like this all the time—excited and giddy and completely unafraid—I’d be the happiest man alive.

~

Credence and I didn’t see each other face-to-face for almost two years after we first met, but we _talked._ Our emails eventually gave way to late-night stolen phone calls. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line turned me to clay, moldable and soft at the first whisper of my name from his perfect lips. I thought if only I could have a single kiss from that lovely mouth, I would die happy.

He finished community college at the end of August and I went to his graduation party to find that my pretty broken boy had grown into a beautiful man. I waited until the party was mostly over to approach him, and he promptly asked me to go outside with him. We walked around the backyard in a slow circle, neither of us saying much. 

The second loop around, he took my hand, and I let him. “I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he finally said. “I’ve never felt that way about anyone else.”

I turned to face him and reached up to trace the line of his perfect cheekbone with my shaking fingers. “I’ve never been good at this,” I warned him. “I’m going to upset you. I’m going to end up making you really mad about something and have no idea what it was that I did.”

Credence looked floored. “I don’t care about—really, come on now, you think _I_ know how this stuff works? I grew up in a _cult.”_

“Fair enough,” I agreed, laughing, and then he stole my breath with a kiss.

He was warm and responsive and everything I’d imagined he would be, and as we stood there swaying helplessly in each other’s arms I knew that he was _mine._ I plunged my hands under his shirt, worked the buttons with increasing urgency. He pushed my vest off my shoulders, pulled my shirt over my head. We kissed like teenagers, hands all over each other, no hesitation, no fear.

We went swimming in the Goldsteins’ pool in our underwear, diving under and holding our breath as long as we could, then retreating to the shallow end and cuddling on the steps when we got tired. Even sitting down he was taller than me, but he was still so thin, and when I held him something deep and primal clicked into place and all I could think was that I would just murder anyone who tried to take him away from me. 

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” I told him between messy, desperate kisses. “You’ll always be safe with me, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He accepted my frantic promises, but when we were lying on the grass to dry off he said, “Something bad happened to you, or you wouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told him, my heartbeat picking up for reasons that had nothing to do with the warmth of his hand on my belly.

He tucked his face into my shoulder and kissed the water off my skin. “I won’t ask,” he promised.

We got dressed and went back inside holding hands. Queenie covered her mouth to hide her smile, Jacob and Newt smirked at me, and Tina just rolled her eyes and said, “Well, you two held out longer than I thought you would.”

It turned out that they’d all known, that they’d seen us dancing around each other for nearly two years and had been waiting to see how it all would play out. Tina, of all people, had apparently played confidant to a lovestruck Credence, and encouraged him to wait until he was done with school to say anything about how he felt. Queenie had been deliberately matchmaking when she slipped him my email address. Newt and Jacob, predictably, had no idea what was going on, just that we liked each other and apparently weren’t doing anything about it.

It didn’t matter. Our friends had their noses in our business, but that was nothing new. Credence walked me to my car that night and kissed me before I drove off, and I promised to take him out as soon as we both had the chance, and that was _really_ the only thing that mattered.

~

I hate haunted houses. People jumping out at me from dark corners kind of lost its appeal after ten years as a Detroit cop. And I like a good horror movie as much as the next tough guy, but I’d rather not live them, thanks.

I’ve already done that. It wasn’t so much fun.

After going through a couple at Universal, though, I have to admit that they do it right. Already knowing the plot of the movies, and what the monsters in those movies look like, makes it a little less terrifying when they pop out at me. And Credence likes to cling to me as we go through the houses, as if he’s the one who’s afraid, which helps immensely because it lets me focus on him, and lets me cling to the illusion that I’m the tough one of our relationship.

Eventually, against my better judgement, I start to have fun with it. The Universal Classic Monsters house is my favorite, mainly because I know most of those movies like the back of my hand and, quite frankly, I never found Frankenstein or the Creature from the Black Lagoon to be that frightening. Credence _loves_ this one, and I swear to God the guy playing Frankenstein just about breaks character when Credence sees him, gasps, and blurts out “Oh my gosh, I love you!”

“I have definitely never heard anyone say _that_ to Frankenstein before,” Jacob remarks as we leave the maze.

“Oh, well, he was my imaginary friend as a kid,” Credence says, as if there’s absolutely nothing odd about that at all. “I wasn’t allowed to watch the movies, but there was this huge rubber Frankenstein outside the Seven-Eleven by our house. I’d go talk to him when Ma wasn’t around. I thought he just seemed like a nice guy, you know?”

Jacob lets out an inelegant snort of laughter, and Queenie and Newt both giggle indulgently. Tina, however, looks sad. “You can’t just say things like that,” she tells Credence.

Of course that makes Credence’s pretty face fall, and I’m about to tell her off when Jacob comes to the rescue. “Why not? I had a crush on the Evil Queen when I was a kid. My parents took me to Disney World, see, and the woman they had as the Queen face character was a real cutie.”

“I liked Kimmy Gibler from _Full House,”_ Newt pipes up. “I couldn’t understand why everyone was so mean to her.”

Tina finally cracks a smile. “You know, Newt, that really doesn’t surprise me.”

I slip my hand into Credence’s as we pass through the _Killer Klowns_ scare zone, which is pretty self-explanatory (and a not-favorite of mine, call me a cliche but clowns are fucking _creepy)._ “C’mon, tell me your embarrassing childhood crush,” he prompts me, likely as a distraction that he knows I’ll want.

“Oh, mine was Atreyu from _The Neverending Story.”_ I reach over and swipe a loose strand of hair out of his face. “I’ve always had a thing for dark hair and sad eyes, apparently.”

I actually kind of hated _The Neverending Story,_ even if my obsession with Atreyu did in fact alert me to the fact I liked boys; the scene in the swamps was enough to scar me for life. But I want to make Credence blush, and I succeed. 

And then he makes my night by leaning over and whispering in my ear, “Not so sad anymore. Not since I met you.” 

I’m about to fall to my knees and propose then and there when a short (and _immensely creepy)_ clown alien blocks our path. Fight-or-flight kicks in and I almost dive in front of Credence to protect him from the monster. But he just makes a noise that one might emit upon seeing a kitten. “Oh, he’s so _cute!”_ he coos, and the tiny clown folds its arms as if offended and stalks off. Credence promptly chases him down, shouting apologies, phone out for a selfie.

Tina watches me watch all of this. “You, my friend, have got it _so bad,”_ she tells me, as if I don’t already know that. “You should see yourself. You know, there was a time when if someone looked at you like that, you’d run for the hills.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I watch Credence playfully run away from one of the bigger clown aliens, only to let himself “get caught” while a laughing Jacob takes a video. “You’re not wrong, though. I love him. And I think that’s scarier than anything in this park.”

“You don’t have be afraid. He loves you too,” she tells me with a knowing smile.

Credence is kind enough to let me sit out _Nightingales: Blood Pit._ This maze is not based on a movie, and is one of the most allegedly terrifying haunted trails that Universal has ever done. Queenie and Newt also, understandably, decide to give this one a miss. We go and get the Blood Pit drink, a mix of vodka, juice, and sour schnapps, instead. “A few of these and I might actually not _care_ that this is the creepiest place I’ve ever been,” Newt remarks halfway into his first cocktail.

“You didn’t have to come,” Queenie reminds him as she delicately sips her drink. “If you make one more comment like ‘oh, this wouldn’t _really_ happen, it’s not _that_ scary,’ I think Teeny might actually punch you. Could you maybe _try_ not to spoil everyone’s fun? I’m scared too, you know, but you don’t see me ruining the houses for everybody else.”

“It’s just how I handle fear,” Newt insists, lifting his chin to attempt some semblance of dignity.

“Well, handle it to yourself,” Queenie says bluntly. Then, with a conspiratorial smile, she leans over and pokes me in the ribs. “Can I see it?” she whispers. 

I take a quick look around before I take out the ring. Queenie has seen this ring before, hell, she helped me design it—a heavy white gold band, sporting a hexagon-shaped piece of onyx surrounded by tiny diamonds—but every time she sees it, she coos and gushes as if it’s the first time she’s laid eyes on the thing. “He’ll love it,” she assures me as I snap the box closed and slip it safely back into my pocket. “He’s going to say yes. We all know it.”

When our significant others return, the very first thing Credence does is catapult himself into my arms like we’ve been separated for a thousand years. “That was _so fucking scary,”_ he gasps into my neck, clutching at me with an iron grip.

I know better than to think he’s actually afraid right now. High on adrenaline, more like. I pat his back reassuringly until he lets me go and, sure enough, the smile on his face could stop wars. “So you liked it?”

“Loved it,” he says happily. Then he shivers and admits, “If there’s one here that will actually give me nightmares, though, I think that was it. You made the right call sitting out on this one. It was…” He grits his teeth a little. “Uh. _Realistic.”_

“There were corpses everywhere, it was great,” I hear Tina happily telling Newt. “You would’ve nitpicked on the creatures. They looked kind of like humanoid turkeys. But otherwise it was fantastic, you could smell the blood, I swear—”

I shudder and reach out to pull Credence in close again. “Thank you,” I tell him softly, “for not asking me to go with you.”

Demogorgons are cool. Frankenstein is great. Killer Klowns…are not great, but I can deal. But I can’t handle the scent of blood, or the sound of people screaming for help. And Credence, God love him, he _knows._

He rests his head against my shoulder, his long hair tickling my nose. One hand splays out across my back and pulls me in close and I let my eyes fall shut, let myself get lost in him. “If you want to go, we can,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m perfectly happy with everything we’ve done tonight.”

“No way.” I pull back and give his hand a quick squeeze. “We’ve got a show to see and two more houses that you wanted to do. Let’s go.”

It’s important that we get to the _Freddy Vs. Jason_ house, and it’s _very_ important that we’re the last ones in. I’ve arranged all of this with Universal ahead of time (the girl on the phone was so thrilled she actually cried when I made my request) and I just know Credence will love it. He has to. I’ve done everything I can to make sure that tonight will end with a textbook-definition perfect moment.

I hate the overstimulation of this stupid park, I really do. I’d never do this kind of thing on my own. As we make our way through Anarchade (a scare zone that I can only describe as “ _Pac-Man,_ but massively fucked-up”), I’m assaulted by waves of neon lights blinking over the scareactors’ costumes, loud 80’s music, and the perennial Halloween sounds of chainsaws and screams. I’d kill to be in our hotel room now just with Credence. In the bath, maybe, with one of those vanilla sugar-scented fizzy bath things that he likes so much. Drinking Smirnoff out of paper cups. Watching some ancient black-and-white sci-fi movie on TV.

But he’s loving every minute of this, chasing the scareactors and letting them chase him right back, shrieking in unmistakable joy when some idiot comes at him with a chainsaw. If this is cathartic for him, if it makes him feel good, I don’t really care about myself. Credence is happy and that’s all that matters.

~

I take no small amount of pride in the fact that _I_ was the one to show Credence his first horror movie.

Tina treated him with kid gloves when he first moved in. She still does, but back then it was ridiculous. Credence was frustrated with her constant hovering, or so he told me in one of our first phone conversations. Being treated with such caution was exhausting. He needed release, something that would make him feel alive more so than safe.

The first time we went to the movies together, I tried to nudge him to make the decision about what we’d watch. It was mid-September and the horror movie season was in full swing, and our local artsy theater was catering to the public by showing all the classics. _The Exorcist. Nightmare on Elm Street. Halloween. When A Stranger Calls. Friday the 13th._

Tina would have murdered me if she knew. But when Credence wavered I made the impulse decision t take him to see _Nightmare on Elm Street._ “You like scary movies?” I asked him as we settled in with a giant tub of popcorn between us.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen any,” he admitted. The lights went down and he grabbed my hand. It was Thursday night, a 10 PM showing, and we were the only two in the theater save a knot of already-toasted college kids on the far end of the auditorium.

The very opening scene of _Nightmare on Elm Street_ is terrifying if you go in blind. Freddy Kruger creates his iconic claw hand, and then he stalks and kills his first victim. It’s not for the easily frightened. My heart was pounding as we watched it, and I’d seen it before. I’m no chicken and I can handle horror in moderation, but it’s hardly my favorite genre.

But Credence? Oh, he was in love. As the story unfolded, every time Freddy Kruger was on-screen I heard a telltale soft gasp as Credence’s hand tightened around mine. I thought was scared and tried to comfort him at first, only to realize that it wasn’t fear I was witnessing, it was _excitement._ The college kids added to the experience, screaming appreciatively at the jump scares, mocking the dumber characters, laughing too hard at parts that weren’t _that_ funny.

And Credence loved _every minute of it._ By the end of the film he was shouting “Oh my God no, don’t fall asleep, _he’s right there!”_ right along with the rest of them. And when Nancy vanquished the dream demon by turning her back on him, Credence let out a shriek of raw joy that I hadn’t even imagined he might know how to make. I’d never seen him so uninhibited before, and I loved seeing it as much, I think, as he enjoyed feeling it.

When the lights came back up at the end he turned to me, threw his arms around my neck and pressed kiss after kiss to my face, gasping awed _thank-yous_ between kisses. “There’s more of them, you know,” I told him. “Six, I think. Well, eight, if you count _Freddy vs. Jason_ and _Wes Craven’s New Nightmare._ Oh—make that nine. They did a remake back in 2010.” Credence looked so thrilled that I impulsively added, “I can probably get them all on Amazon Video, this weekend even, if you like.”

“Oh my God, _yes,”_ he said, actually moaning in delight at the prospect. “Yes. Yes _please._ That sounds amazing, let’s do it.”

We ended up making it through the first three _Nightmare_ movies that Saturday. Then Credence took the remote out of my hand and threw it aside, crawled into my lap, and kissed me so hard I stopped breathing. I thrust my hands inside his shirt and grabbed onto him like he was the last human being on earth, meeting him kiss for kiss, and when he knocked me over on the sofa and pulled my shirt open without bothering to undo the buttons first I knew where it was going and felt deliciously powerless to stop it.

Because I didn’t _want_ to stop it. I wanted him to have this and, _God,_ I wanted to be the one to give it to him.

“If I’d known watching _Nightmare on Elm Street_ was what got you in the mood,” I said later when we were tangled up on the floor together, naked and satisfied and barely covered by the first throw blanket we’d managed to grab as we fell off the couch, “I would’ve shown it to you two years ago.”

Credence laughed and half-heartedly swatted at my chest. “You wouldn’t.”

“No, you’re right,” I agreed, pulling him even closer and tucking his head into my neck so I could feel his warm breath against my skin, “I wouldn’t. I would’ve let you come to me on your own. And you did.”

We lay there together like that until my back hurt and we were both cold from lying on the floor, but still I made no move to get up until he said, “So…can we watch the rest of the movies now?”

“Of course we can, baby. We can do whatever you want.”

~

So here’s the plan: I have to drag this date out until the park is about to close at 1:00 AM. We will be the last ones allowed into the _Freddy vs. Jason_ maze. That has been prearranged. The Universal employees know to look for us. At the very end of the maze there is a point where Freddy jumps out at the unsuspecting audience one last time. Typically here he will make a little show of threatening you, and then he lets you go.

With us, however, he will block the door, and we have a whole little script planned out. “We had a deal,” he will snarl at me. “I’m not letting you out of it.”

“I can’t do it, I’m scared,” I’ll protest.

“I don’t care. Do it, or—” He’ll make a threatening gesture at Credence.

“No, no, don’t touch him, I’ll do it,” I’ll quickly head him off, and then turn to Credence, who should be suitably confused by this point. I can’t wait to see that confusion turn to joy when he sees me go down on one knee. Only after I’ve asked and he’s said yes (fingers crossed!) will Freddy let us go.

I hope the scareactor doesn’t break character to congratulate us. Credence will like it better if he threatens us again, won’t let us go right away. He’ll probably cry, because that’s what Credence does when he’s overwhelmed. But it’s all right. It’s the perfect proposal for him, and I know he’ll love it.

It’s only 10:00 now, and we have at least three hours to get through before the main event. As it gets closer to go-time I’ve become progressively more nervous. Perhaps sensing my unease, Credence slips his hand through the crook of my arm and tugs me in close. “We can go,” he offers. “Or maybe we could just take a break after the show? Go get some food?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” I tuck my head against his shoulder and settle in. The Academy of Villains show is about to start and I know how much Credence has been looking forward to this. He’s sent me a dozen YouTube clips of these dancers in the last week alone, been singing the soundtrack of their last show to himself as he showers or does housework.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that he’s real, this incredible, beautiful, absolutely _miraculous_ man, and that I didn’t dream him up. That someone really can go through the things he’s gone through and still come out so loving and playful and kind. That he is a survivor, and he is strong and brave and everything I could ever want, and I some how was lucky enough to charm him into my bed and into my life.

“I love you,” I whisper, the words drowned out by the heavy metal soundtrack of the show.

It’s the last coherent thing I say for a while.

~

We’d been trying to catch Gellert Grindelwald for three years. He’d burst onto the scene out of nowhere, fancied himself a revolutionary, an anarchist. No one really knows what he wanted. He had no clear message, no MO other than “fuck shit up at all costs.”

We almost had him when he caught me.

For three months he held me captive. He let people think I was just hiding, undercover, on an extended assignment. He sent things from my work email in my name. Threatened my people. Tried to hurt Seraphina and used me to do it. I don’t know how much damage he caused. I suppose I ought to just be thankful he never got his hands on my SSN, so he couldn’t _completely_ steal my identity and ruin my life.

He never hit me. His thing was psychological torture, and he laid it on thick, until I wished he’d just beat me instead. He knew everything about me. All the people I couldn’t save, all the things I’d seen that had left me scarred. Things I’d tried so hard to forget, which he forced me to relive. Sometimes he would come to me still bloodied from a fight and hide in the corner, whimpering for help until I reached out to him. Then he’d pounce. _Poor little detective, trying to be the hero one last time,_ he would mock me, and keep going until he made me cry.

When it became clear that no one was coming, depression sank in and I gave up. I’d let myself drift, zone out when I heard his footsteps on the stairs, because it was easier to blank out than listen to the things he said to me. If I didn’t respond to his taunts he would get bored eventually and leave, and I’d lie there alone in the dark, too lethargic to move, weak from hunger and fatigue.

It was Tina who eventually found me. By then, the damage was done. Half the department thought I had done things that had really been Grindelwald, and sorting out the truth took forever. I spent two weeks in the hospital, trying to regain the weight and the dignity that I’d lost. And then there was the matter of the trial, which I just try not to think about.

The first time I had a panic attack at work, the rookies burst out laughing at me. The other detectives outright mocked me after the trial, thinking what I’d been through wasn’t that bad, that I was just weak. I went on medical leave two days in and never came back, and Sera, having had enough of the department politics, willingly came with me.

Credence only knows the basic outline of the whole story, and a few little bits I’ve let slip when feeling particularly vulnerable after a bad nightmare. He’s never pressured me to talk about it, any more than I’ve asked him for details of the batshit-crazy church that was once his personal hell.

I’m explaining this now so you understand that what happens next isn’t really my fault, even though that will not stop me from blaming myself for it.

~

The Academy of Villains show is as noisy and overwhelming as I thought it would be, pure hell for someone who thrives on peace and quiet. The music is loud and metallic and crashes over me in painful waves. It’s so overstimulating it makes a Trans Siberian Orchestra concert look like a soothing lullaby.

But I could deal with all of that. And for the first few minutes I do, until the “mad scientist” that kicks off the show by swallowing some kind of evil potion, transforms into a white-faced ghoul.

It’s not the monster makeup that gets to me. It’s his build, his clothes, his height, his spiked-up white hair, the way he _moves…_ I feel sick. He’s not Grindelwald, he can’t be, Grindelwald is _in prison,_ but…but the scientist prances around on stage the exact same way Grindelwald used to skip around my cell as he taunted me. I swear to God I can hear his voice—

_There’s blood on your hands, Detective. You think you’re better than me? You’ve killed more people than I have. How does that make you feel? Oh, are you crying now? Pathetic little thing, no wonder no one’s noticed you’re missing…_

I can feel myself shutting down even before it happens. _No,_ I think desperately, _no, you know it’s not him. You know you’re okay. No one is here who shouldn’t be, and he is in prison, he will never hurt you again._

I manage to stave it off for a bit by focusing on the weight of Credence’s arm around me, and the feeling of his shoulder rising and falling under my cheek as he breathes. I remind myself a hundred times that he is real, that I didn’t dream him up as a way of coping with captivity. Still, it’s all I can do to keep myself together. He helps, unknowingly, by humming along to the music and it’s almost, _almost_ enough to keep me grounded. _Please,_ I urge myself, _please, stay here with him. He loves you. You’re safe. It’s okay._

For a moment, the creepy scientist disappears and the nice one comes back. But then the guy drinks another potion and is replaced, again, by his evil ghoulish counterpart, and no—I can’t— _his_ voice sounds in my head.

_You know…I’m going to put a bomb in your office. You do know that, don’t you? I wonder if your cop friends will figure it out? I wonder how you’ll feel knowing they’re dead and it’s on you?_

I let my mind shut down, let my eyes glaze over, let the music fade into white noise. If you asked me where I am I could tell you, but I wouldn’t _understand_ where I am or what’s happening and on some level it scares me, feeling so detached, but to do something about it is beyond me. 

I lose time, eventually. Distantly I am aware of how much I hate myself right now. That if I can’t make this stop, I will ruin everything. That tonight’s “textbook perfect moment” is becoming more distorted and unlikely with every second I sit here, stiff and silent and unresponsive.

Eventually, Grindelwald’s voice mixes with my own, creating a feedback loop of pain. _Fucking useless. You make six figures a year protecting people’s homes from intruders? Really? What if your clients saw you now, brought to your knees by a man in a costume? Why does Credence even stay with you? You’re pathetic._

And then I’m faintly aware that someone is trying to get me to move, that I’m walking, that the noise of the show is growing soft and that I’m not breathing the fog-machine air of the auditorium anymore. But I don’t really _feel_ anything…

When my head does eventually clear, I realize that wherever we are is dark and quiet. My head is on Credence’s shoulder again and I can feel him rubbing my back in slow, firm circles. “I’m here,” he tells me, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. It’s all right.”

For a brief, blessed moment I slump against him, relaxing into his touch as relief floods through me like a drug. “Please don’t stop, that feels so good,” I murmur into his shoulder.

Credence inhales sharply (I don’t think he realized I was "back with him"), then quickly recovers and goes right back into that soft, steady voice. “Okay. It’s okay, I won't stop. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yeah…stupid dancer reminded me of _him.”_ I wince as the words leave my mouth. “’M sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to check out on you.”

“Sh-h-h. It’s fine. You’re okay now, that’s all that matters.” He gives me a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be back to the hotel in a minute.”

“Wait, what? Oh God, no—” I sit up straight and realize, to my absolute horror, that we are in a car, and I know better than to think that Credence will let me take him back to the park. “But you didn’t get to do _Freddy vs. Jason…”_ My voice sounds soft and childish to my own ears; I can only imagine how pathetic I must sound to him.

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “Everyone and their brother does some kind of homage house to _Nightmare on Elm Street,_ you know that. Even if we can’t get back during this trip, I’m sure there’ll be one back home we can go to. For now, though, we need to get you someplace quiet to recover...that was a bad one, you were out of it for a pretty long time...”

I can’t say no to him. Partly because I can never say no to Credence, and partly because, well, he’s right. So I let him take me back to the hotel, and wait until he’s in the bathroom to call my contact at HHN and beg for mercy. “We’ll try to push it to tomorrow,” she says doubtfully, and I realize that it really is tonight or never.

But Credence will not go back to that park tonight unless I drag him there, and I don’t want the memory of our proposal to be tainted by a fight. So I apologize profusely to the girl on the phone, only to hang up on her as Credence comes out of the bathroom. “Just telling the others where we are,” I lie, lest he see the phone and get suspicious.

“Oh. Yeah. I told them I was taking you home. They’re going to finish the night out, give us a little time…” He bites his lip. “You were, uh…you were pretty out of it.”

 _Yeah, I’m sure I was. No need to rub it in, thanks._ I sink down onto the bed and avoid his eyes. “Shit…have I said I’m sorry yet?”

“Percy, look at me,” he coaxes, and reluctantly, I do. He comes over and sits beside me, taking my hand in both of his. “Don’t be sorry. I just want to help, all right? Please, tell me how I can help.”

I don’t know how to answer that question. Build a time machine so I can go back and stop myself from losing it? Let me drive back to Detroit just so I can punch Grindelwald in the face? Accept whatever pathetic proposal I come up with in place of what I wanted to do tonight, even though it won’t be half as good?

Credence waits me out, as always. After a few moments of silence he offers, “Want me to go run us a bath?”

Fuck. Magic words. A weak little flutter of pleasure cuts through the aching disappointment and I find myself looking hopefully into his eyes. “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind…I’d like that, yeah.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Stop,” he orders me quietly. “I know you’re mad at yourself. Don’t be. Would you be angry with me if I had a panic attack?”

Well, shit. He’s got me there and he knows it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s not like that, I swear. I just…there was something I wanted to do tonight. That’s all.”

“We can do it tomorrow,” he assures me, and no, the thing is we _can’t,_ because tomorrow night we’re doing the Disney Halloween party (as per Queenie’s request, readily granted, because if she’s going to put up with an evening of HHN she deserves all the Disney fluff she wants), and anyway we’ve already established that the team at Universal now thinks I can’t be trusted.

But Credence does not, and cannot, know why we can’t do what I’d planned for tonight. So I just remind him of our plans for tomorrow, and he visibly perks up at that. “Oh, that’ll be fun!”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, you’re right, it’ll be different, and that’s _fine._ I like trying out new stuff, you know that.” He squeezes my hand and then stands up. “I’ll go get that bath started. Order us a pizza or something, would you? We never did eat at the park.”

I feel even worse about that. I know he wanted pizza fries, and the fudge-dipped waffle stick, and probably a half-dozen other things I’m forgetting because I’m a terrible boyfriend and he deserves better. But there’s nothing to do now but damage control. I order us a BBQ chicken pizza, his favorite, and one of every dessert on the menu, feeling like a champion jackass the whole time.

But I do feel better when I finally sink into the tub and Credence settles himself in my lap. Whatever he’s put in the bathwater must be magical. It smells good, and _he_ smells good, and as he snuggles up to me I can’t help but relax. Having him in my arms is comforting in more ways than one: feeling his weight against me is grounding, yes, but more than that it’s infinitely reassuring to know that he’s still _here,_ and that even though I’ve fucked up, he’s not going to leave me.

Food helps, too. It’s room-service pizza so it’s not spectacular, but Credence is happy with it so I tell myself that it’s good enough. After we eat I bring out travel bottles of aloe gel and cocoa butter, which we’ve been putting on his scars every night to try and make them fade. “I want to do it,” I insist when I see Credence is about to head me off. “Please, let me.”

He hesitates a moment, then takes off his t-shirt and turns his back to me. I start with the aloe, relishing the sigh of pleasure I draw from Credence as I rub the cool gel into his skin. I move from his lower back up, focusing on the scars along his spine before moving up to gently massage his neck and shoulders. “Is that good, baby, or do you want me to stop?” I tease him.

“Don’t you dare,” he moans, and I bite my lips to keep from laughing; he’s always been a sucker for a good back rub.

I finish up with the aloe gel and move on to the cocoa butter, hungrily absorbing the soft moans of pleasure I draw out of him. I’m too drained to make love to him tonight, and I hate that. It’s rare that I have to turn him down for sex and I know he would never ask me for it right now, but…

“Do you want anything else?” I ask as he curls up next to me, obviously sleepy and content. It’s a superfluous question, but one that I still feel a need to ask.

“Mmm. Yes. This.” He rolls over and presses his back to me, pulling my arm around his waist so that we’re flush against each other. “There. Perfect,” he says with a sleepy sigh, bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss, then wrapping my arm around him again.

“You’re sure? I still feel like I…God, I don’t know. Like I owe you something.”

Damn it, that wakes him up; I feel him tense up in my arms. “Percy. _No._ What do I have to say to convince you that I…I don’t feel, I don’t know, slighted or whatever? I had a great time, and I’m worried about you, yeah, but…but tonight was…it was good. Really good.” He hesitates, and then says tentatively, “Isn’t there anything _I_ can do for _you?_ It’s just…I know that was a bad one…”

“Oh, love…you do more for me than you know, trust me. I—I don’t need to be babied when I panic, it just makes me feel worse. What helped, more than anything, was when…when you got in the tub with me, and you let me hold you. Feeling you in my arms, that’s _good,_ it helps me remember that I’m here with you, not stuck there with _him.”_ Wanting to lighten the mood a little, I add in a more playful tone, “And…ugh, are you really going to make me say it?”

Credence being Credence, he immediately picks up on the change in tone. “Yes, I’m going to make you,” he says primly, a little giggle escaping, and I feel infinitely better for having made him laugh.

“All right, _fine,”_ I sigh, as if making a great concession. “I _like_ spoiling you. I like giving you surprises, making you smile…baby, up until the show, tonight was one of the best damn nights I can remember. Hearing you laugh, seeing how excited you got about the haunted mazes, the way you just lit up every time one of the scareactors paid you attention…I loved it, it just made me so happy to see _you_ so happy, and yes, I do know how cheesy that sounds, but it’s _true.”_

There’s a long pause, and then: “You’re right, that _does_ sound cheesy.”

“Hey, you _asked,”_ I mock-protest, but he’s laughing and the sound fills my heart with helium, so I don’t really care. He can laugh at me all he likes.

He can do _anything he fucking wants,_ as long as he’s happy.

Credence settles back into my arms after that and we lie there wrapped up together all safe and warm until we match the rhythm of each other’s breaths, and slowly, steadily lull each other to sleep. I expected to have nightmares tonight, but I don’t have a single one.

~

“Are you _sure_ you want to go tonight?”

I sigh and give my best friend a _really?_ look over the rim of my margarita glass. “Newt, I swear if you ask me one more time, I will throw you in the pool. I had an anxiety attack, not a heart attack. I’m _fine.”_

Credence went souvenir shopping with Queenie and Jacob, and Newt and I are at the pool bar with Tina. We came here under the pretense of having lunch and a quick swim. What we really ended up doing is lounging on pool chairs in the sun drinking frozen margaritas, which I think is a much better decision. Now Tina is actually in the pool, leaving Newt and I free to “bro down,” as she put it.

Only problem is, Newt is the least “bro down” person I have ever met. And trying to squeeze fix-it proposal ideas out of him is useless, because Tina beat him to the draw. Which is not a problem in and of itself, but here’s how she did it: she adopted a kitten, put a sign on its neck that said “Will you marry my new mommy?” along with a stainless-steel ring, and told Newt she wanted him to meet her new pet. When the little kitten padded out and he saw the ring, Newt ugly cried and could barely get out his _yes._ It was fantastic but, in context of this trip, completely unhelpful. I can hardly go to the shelter and bring a kitten back to the hotel.

“Hypothetically, if Tina hadn’t proposed first, how would you have asked her?” I ask him a few minutes later, when he’s done pouting about the threat to toss him in the pool.

“I probably would have asked her when it was just the two of us.”

“I almost did, last night,” I admit. I considered it while we were eating dinner. But that would have been _my_ dream proposal—the two of us alone together, in the middle of a soft and sweet but otherwise totally unremarkable moment—and I just know Credence will want something more.

I relay this information to Newt, who just shrugs and says, “Well, that’s what I would do.”

“This shouldn’t be so hard, damn it,” I complain as Tina hops out of the pool and pads over to us. “I just want to marry him. I’m not asking him for a god damned kidney here.”

“There you go, run with that,” Tina chuckles as she picks up a towel and rubs her hair. “Romantic as hell. Ten out of ten.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “You aren’t helping.”

“What? It’s _Graves and Credence,_ not Princess Kate and Prince William. No need to go balls to the wall here.”

“I like how you imply that I’m Princess Kate,” I say dryly. 

Tina just laughs as she finishes toweling off. She sits cross-legged on the end of my lounger and asks, “You want to know what I think?”

“Yes, please.”

“I think Credence loves you to death and you could propose to him at a truck stop with a ring from a gumball machine and he’d marry you on the spot,” she says, totally straight-faced. “And I think you’re tying yourself up in knots over it because you’re a total perfectionist, and that’s just what you do.”

“Says the girl who burst into tears when she got an eight out of ten on her first performance evaluation as a rookie,” I point out, because apparently I can’t help but be an asshole.

Luckily, Tina takes it in stride. “Hey, I never said I was any better. But for real, you know why I asked Newt first? Because I knew if I tried to be _that girl_ and drop hints about wanting to marry him, I’d drive myself crazy wondering if he’d figured it out yet. So do what I did. Just freaking _ask him._ Think of something cute, and do it.”

I think about it for a second. “Well…we’re going to Disney tonight. I could just do it in front of the castle?” I suggest half-heartedly.

“There you go. Nope, don’t second-guess it, that’s good enough.” She pats my knee and stands up. “One more round before we change for the party?”

I wince as I remember that I’m going to be wearing a Halloween costume in public tonight. “Yeah. Have them put an extra shot in mine.”

Tina just laughs and shakes her head. “You’ll be fine, Graves. Relax. He’s going to say yes. Trust me.”

~

Okay, so the whole costume thing is not that bad. The others, over my head, all decided to go as Marvel characters. I was afraid of what that would mean (I do _not_ do tights, ever) but as we were getting ready Credence just handed me a Captain America costume t-shirt, slipped on his own Winter Soldier shirt, and looked at me and said “Okay?” So. It could’ve been worse.

Now we’re in the park, walking hand-in-hand down Main Street USA and stopping at the trick-or-treat trails along the way. I notice Credence stagger a little as we leave the latest one, a slightly dazed expression on his face as he looks down at the candy in his treat bag like it might the cure for cancer.

“You all right, sweetheart?” I ask, resting a cautious hand on his shoulder, ready to fight off the ghost of his terrible mother.

He nods slowly and looks up at me through wet eyes. “I’ve never done this before,” he explains, a little nervously, as if I’ll judge him for— _oh._ Right.

So, speaking of the ghost of his mother: Credence wasn’t allowed to celebrate Halloween until he was twenty years old. He’s been to every adult-friendly Halloween event in our home state and the surrounding area, and of course Queenie and Jacob’s legendary annual party. But he has never experienced the simple pleasure of putting on a cheap drugstore costume, wandering the neighborhood and collecting candy in a plastic pumpkin bucket…until now.

I’ve been there for so many of his firsts. I was his first kiss, his first boyfriend, his first time making love. And all of that was lovely…but there’s something about getting to have _this_ first of his, this childish little _thing_ that’s so innocent and yet means so much, that grips my heart and just refuses to let me go. Suddenly _I’m_ the one on the verge of tears. I keep thinking it’s not possible to love him more, and then, _fuck,_ there it is, and I fall wildly in love with him all over again.

I pull him in for a kiss and hold him tight to my chest like the precious thing he is. “I’ll bring you here every year, if you like it that much,” I vow in a whisper. He barely suppresses a sweet little half-laugh half-cry, and I’m about to just throw it all to the winds and ask him to marry me then and there when the others catch up and pull us off to get good seats for the parade.

I was afraid initially that after the dark glamour of HHN, the bright lights and poppy music of the Disney Halloween party would all seem too childish to Credence. But he laps it up, reveling in the capitalistic excess of Disney in a way that would make that mother of his roll in her grave if she knew. If last night was a way to indulge Credence’s love of horror, tonight is about making up for the childhood he never got to have.

“Once the parade is over, we’ll get a group shot in front of the castle,” Tina suggests. She ends with a significant look in my direction. I nudge her to shut her up, then pat my pocket to make sure the ring is still there.

We line up in front of the castle and get a nearby Pooh Bear Disney-bounder to take our pictures, first in our individual couple costumes (Tina and Newt look great as Black Widow and Hawkeye, but they’ve got nothing on the elaborate Gamora and Star-lord costumes that Queenie made for herself and Jacob), and then as a group. It’s corny, and I doubt we’ll ever even look at these pictures after tonight, but it’s still cute, and it’s _fun._ Which is what tonight is all about, after all.

As soon as the photos are done the others start to move on, but Credence catches me by my sleeve and says, very seriously, “Wait. I need to tell you something.”

“Whatever it is, sweetheart, just tell me and I’ll fix it,” I promise, because of course I always assume the worst.

Credence takes a deep breath, takes both my hands in his and faces me. “I was thinking all day about what you said last night…that you treat me the way you do because you just want to see me happy. You just want me to…to know how much you love me.” He chokes up a little, takes another breath to steady himself, and before I can say anything he plunges on, “I love you too. You were my first kiss. My first everything. And…I think that what would make me _really_ happy would be if…if you were my last, too.”

My body understands what he’s getting at long before my slow, stupid mind can catch up. My heart speeds up, my knees buckle a little and the ground feels as if it’s tilting beneath my feet as Credence…oh God… _drops to one knee._ I swear to God, if it weren’t for his hands on mine, the familiar pressure of his touch, I would think I was dreaming.

He lets go of me just long enough to fish a little red jewelry box out of his pocket and fumble open the clasp. Inside the box is a plain silver band with a diagonal line of three tiny diamond chips. Simple and elegant. Exactly the one I would’ve picked, if he’d asked me what I wanted.

My eyes blur as he catches my hand again, even before he says the words. “I love you so much, Percy. Will you marry me, please?” he says softly, coaxingly, as if he’s afraid he’ll lose points for not being polite enough.

The whole thing is so typical _Credence_ that I laugh, even as the first tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. I hate crying. Never do it in public. Hell, I go out of my way to avoid it in private, too. But Credence— _fuck,_ Credence just has this way of tearing down every defense I’ve built up. He could make me do anything he wants, this beautiful boy, God, he just _owns_ me. I never stood a chance.

Of course I say yes. Actually, my throat closes up and all I can manage is a nod and a tiny _uh-huh_ as more tears spill free, but Credence’s eyes light up like the Disney castle, so I must’ve done something right.

I feel the cool slide of metal over my finger as he puts on the ring, and then he’s standing in front of me again and his arms are around me and he’s kissing me like the world will end if he stops.

This time when the rest of the world fades away I can still see him, and feel him, and it’s a much better kind of floating-away when Credence stays with me.

~

“You kind of stole my thunder,” I tell him later, as we sit under a rare tree by the castle, waiting for the fireworks show to start. Our friends have graciously disappeared to give us some privacy…or what passes for privacy in a crowded theme park.

“Oh, really,” Credence says with a roll of his eyes. But before I can prove it by showing him the ring, his eyes go wide and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God, _that’s_ why you wanted to go back to the park last night—you had something planned, didn’t you?”

“I did,” I confirm, and then tell him what was waiting at the end of the _Freddy vs. Jason_ maze. “I’m sorry it didn’t happen, but…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it was for the best. You definitely threw me for a loop tonight, sweetheart. In a good way.”

“It was spur-of-the-moment,” he admits. “It’s why Queenie went shopping with me today, to help me find a ring.”

“You chose well.” I look down at my hand, and then hand him the box that contains his ring. “This is yours, my love, if you want it.”

He tears up when he opens it. “Oh God. It’s _perfect.”_ His eyes dart guiltily to my less-elaborate ring, and I know he’s comparing himself again, thinking that his choice of rings is inadequate compared to mine.

“Yes, it is. And the one you chose was perfect for me,” I assure him, feeling instantly content when my words make him smile. I take back the ring, only to catch his hand in mine and slide it onto his finger. “There. And now we match.” The smile becomes a _beam,_ his whole face glowing with the kind of happiness I wish I could make him feel every minute of every day.

And now last night is a distant memory and, very selfishly, I’m glad that my super-amazing-dream proposal didn’t happen, because now I have _this._ Credence is so happy, and _I’m_ happy, and this…this is the actual, textbook definition of a perfect moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Panic attack TW spoilers: Graves sees a dancer at the Academy of Villains show who reminds him of Grindelwald. He tries to fight it, but ultimately ends up dissociating and losing time. This section is pretty heavy with negative self-talk and, of course, memories of psychological torture at the hands of Grindelwald. This section lasts from "The Academy of Villains show is as noisy and overwhelming as I thought it would be," to "I can’t say no to him. Partly because I can never say no to Credence, and partly because, well, he’s right."
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: This isn't outright stated so much as hinted at. There are multiple mentions that Credence was not allowed to celebrate holidays or do anything fun as a child. Graves at one point mentions Credence's mother tried to "destroy his self esteem." His scars are mentioned towards the end. No flashbacks, no explicit descriptions; the focus is more on the fact that Credence survived it than the abuse itself.
> 
> Kidnapping/torture TW spoilers: Graves is an ex-cop who was kidnapped by a target (three guesses who). Grindelwald held him for about three months and subjected him to psychological and emotional abuse. When Graves went back to work, his teammates distrusted him and minimized his suffering because the torture wasn't physical. This section lasts from "We’d been trying to catch Gellert Grindelwald for three years," to "I’m explaining this now so you understand that what happens next isn’t really my fault, even though that will not stop me from blaming myself for it." There are also mentions of it in the panic attack section (see above).
> 
> AND NOW for the fun Nerd Stuff! I chose to do a mishmash of different HHN houses/scare zones instead of basing it off of one year. But everything mentioned here actually was at some point a Halloween Horror Nights scare zone or maze--yes, including Freddy vs. Jason. If you're curious and want to see walkthroughs on YouTube (or just a theme park history nerd like me, lol) here's a list:  
> -Freddy Vs. Jason was a haunted house from HHN 25 (2015)  
> -Killer Klowns from Outer Space was a scare zone in HHN 28 (2018 - for 2019, it was revamped into an actual haunted maze)  
> -Stranger Things was a haunted house from HHN 28 and 29 (2018 was Stranger Things season 1; the 2019 house included elements from all three seasons)  
> -The Harvest and Vamp 85 were both scare zones from HHN 28  
> -Universal Monsters was a haunted house from HHN 29 (2019)  
> -Nightingales: Blood Pit was a haunted maze, also from HHN 29 (and it is indeed an original, non-movie-based house that is considered amongst HHN diehards to be one of THE most frightening houses Universal has ever done -- I had a hard time watching enough of the walkthrough video to get a fair description of it for the fic *shudder*)  
> -The full title of the Academy of Villains show is not mentioned in-story, but it is called Academy of Villains: Altered States and was the HHN 29 official stage show. And if you get the chance do look it up on YouTube because it is SPECTACULAR.
> 
> And yes, I'm sure eagle-eyed theme park horror fans will already have spotted this, but I DEFINITELY played a little fast and loose with HHN scareactor/maze rules here. There's NO WAY Graves' "dream proposal" would happen -- in a scare zone maybe, yeah, but I can't think of any time that I've heard of Universal letting someone do a proposal/ceremony/anything like that INSIDE one of their mazes. They MIGHT let someone do it during a lights-on tour during the day, but they certainly wouldn't get their actors involved or allow video of it if that were the case. But hey, it's fic. You make your own rules. :P
> 
> And last but not least, the title is from the narration from the Nightmare Before Christmas overlay to the Haunted Mansion...which, you are correct fellow Disnerds, does NOT happen in Orlando. But I couldn't resist, because Nightmare Before Christmas is truly my jam and I wanted to give it a little nod.


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